I don't know why he does it. It's just so stupid. Why me, out of everybody else in school? My normal skin color is black and blue because of him! The scars that he left will never leave! All the things he's said to me will stay in my mind forever because I can't let them go!

The worst part, though, is that I sit there, and take it. Why? Inside, I'm like a pile of books. Every time someone says or does something hurtful, a new book is added. I could fall anytime, but I keep my balance. However, everything has a limit, and when that final book comes, I'll collapse. While I'm falling apart, those people who stacked the books, will get hurt, and it wouldn't be my fault.

Everyday, I act like playground equipment for him. Sometimes I'm the monkey bars; I have to support both of our weight, but if I fall, we're both going down. Being his jungle gym is terrible; He climbs all over me, and I can't push him off. The swing is the worst; I get pushed away, hoping I could leave, but I always fall back.

I looked in the mirror to see if the black eye was gone, "Well, it looks better than it did yesterday."

"Brock!" My mom screamed from downstairs, "You're going to miss the bus!"

I put on my baseball cap and sped walked out the door. I walked to the bus stop and looked down the road. People around me talked among their own friends.

That's another thing: I don't have friends. I'm just too awkward. Plus, getting the living daylight kick out of you every time you leave the house is time consuming.

The bus came to a screeching stop and we piled in. I sat in my usual seat: The back.

I sat on the uncomfortable, brown leather seat and looked out the window. I always did that, but I never payed attention to what I was looking at; I usually day dream about the day I stood up to him.

Suddenly, I felt the seat droop a bit. I turned my head and met a pear of dark, brown eyes-the color of coffee beans. He had light brown skin and pink, pale lips. His black hair was very curly and short.

"Is it okay if I sit here?" He asked. He seemed scared.

"Yeah," I said, "why do you seem scared?"

He got comfortable and looked at me, "Well, I just moved here and it's my first day of school. I'm a freshman."

I nodded and made an 'oh.' face, "Well, I'm Brock."

He looked at me and smiled, "I'm Marcel."

I don't know what it was, but the fact that he sat next to me made me feel like I could talk to him. Maybe because he didn't know me, or maybe because he wasn't rude to me. All I know is that during the whole bus ride, it was nice to actually sit and talk to someone.

"What happened to your eye?" He asked

I looked away, "Long story."

He bent his head a bit so I would notice him and look up, "Well, we've got nothing but time."

I told Marcel about him. He was concerned, but also mad. It seemed like the more I told him, the more he got mad.

"How long has this been going on?"

Fifth grade...sixth grade...seventh grade...eighth grade...now, "About five years."

His eyes widened, "And the teachers don't do anything about it?"

I shook my head, "No. They believe you have to solve your own problems now, so you can be prepared later in life."

"That's stupid!"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Later in life, if my house gets robbed, I ain't gonna a sit there and try to crack the code myself; I'm callin' the police!"

I laughed a bit, and he did too. We talked a bit more about the subject, getting side tracked here and there, until we got to school. We rushed to my locker, than we went around, trying to find Marcel's locker.

"234...235...Ha, 236!" Marcel said as he stood in front of his locker.

"Are your books already inside it?"

"Yeah," He said and started to work the lock, "They said they should all be in here."

He opened the locker and all the books were there.

"Do you have PE clothes?"

He looked at me with and questionable face, "Do they provide those?"

"I think so, bu-"

Someone grabbed me by the front of my shirt and then pinned me against the lockers making my hat fall to the floor. Pain shot from my back throughout my whole body. My hat fell off, and I looked at him. His ice cold eyes actually burned. He friends were behind him, grinning like I just made the wrong move.

"What do you think you're doing in front of my locker?" His voice rang in my ears.

"Your locker?" Marcel said, but he only glanced at him, "This is my locker."

That got his attention. He turned his face to Marcel, but his grip never loosened. I, hesitantly, looked at him, and he wasn't happy.

"Who are you?" He asked, sizing Marcel up and down.

"None of your business! Now let him go and get a way from MY locker!"

He began to laugh along with his friends. He let go of me and got closer to Marcel.

"You're funny." He laughed, but turned serious in a matter of seconds.

He grabbed Marcel and pinned him to the lockers. But Marcel wasn't like me; He didn't seem to care, and if he did, then he didn't show it. He did, however, drop his schedule. One of his friends picked it up.

He examined it, "Marcel?" He asked like it was a stupid name.

Marcel glanced at him, "Jealous?"

He rolled his eyes, "Hardly."

"Nice to meet you Marcel," He said and banged Marcel's head against the locker, "I'm Brain, and if you ever talk to me lik-"

Marcel punched him dead in the face. He fell back and Marcel looked down at him, "Learn your place, and this won't happen again."

He sat up, "Yeah?" He kicked Marcel in the back of his knee, and he fell on top of him. He rolled over so he was on top of Marcel and got up, "I can say the same thing."

"Leave him alone." I said without thinking.

Him and his friends looked at me surprised, "Why?"

I was quiet for a moment, trying to think of what to say, but my mouth suddenly decided to go on strike and not wait for me to think, "Because I said so."

He smirked and licked his teeth, "Really?" He ran at me, and tried to pin me to the lockers, or tried to push me down, but I grabbed his wrists and pushed him back a little.

"Really."

Marcel stood up and his friends backed off a bit. He was taller than me, but I was stronger. His blue eyes looked worried, but they didn't stay that way for long. He tried to move, but I didn't let him. I knew his moves and he knew that. I put his arms to his shoulders and pushed so he would fall back.

He didn't fall because his caught his balance, but he was silent, surprised, and confused for only a moment, but then it all turned to anger, "Fine, but if I see your face anywhere tonight," He got a bit closer, "you'll regret it."

He started to walk pass me and purposely bumped my shoulder. Marcel looked at me with surprise, "Where did that come from?"

I shrugged. I honestly didn't know. Maybe because I didn't want Marcel to go through the same thing I did. I knew that wasn't the reason, but I had to convince myself that it was because I didn't know the real one.

"What's tonight?"

"A dance. I never go to them because they're usually cheap and retarded." I said

"We should go."

I raised an eyebrow at him, "Did you not just hear what I said?"

"Yeah, but if you show up, Brain will see that you don't care he thinks."

I thought about it for a second. He could kill me, it's a waste of time, and Nathan's mom is usually the DJ. I bent down and picked up my hat.

"I going to that dance."

~

Marcel and I put on some decent clothes and started to walk to the school. It was 5:45, but I live far from the school. Plus, there's nothing wrong with getting there early. We talked about random stuff as we walked; Nothing important.

When we got there, it was 6:35 and people were already lined up at the door. I told Marcel the best place to enter the school was the East doors because no one care about them, so it'll be less crowded. However, Marcel wanted to go through the front doors because the bathroom was right next to them, so we agreed to meet up inside. He walked over the the front doors, and I walked to the East ones. No one was there, so I sat there and waited for 7:00. I leaned against the school and started to check my Twitter.

Someone hit my hand, and my phone fell to the ground and shattered. I looked up, already knowing this kind of thing would happen. He stood there, pissed at the idea of me being born.

"What did I tell you?"

"You said not to show up, but clearly I don't care what you say."

He gritted his teeth and both of his hands grabbed my shirt and pinned me against the cold bricks of the school.

"I told you, you would regret coming." He drew his fist back.

"What did I do?"

I stopped himself and stared at me, "What?"

"What did I do to you?" I pushed myself off the wall and he let go, "As far as I can remember, I don't think I've ever hurt you, and if I did, I clearly didn't know about it. Can you just tell me what I did wrong so I can apologize and we can both move on with life?"

He stared at me in silence, but tears formed in his eyes, "I...I'm sorry." He said a bit shaky. He began to walk backwards, and I knew he was going to run, so grabbed his wrist and made him look at me.

"Don't run away. Tell me what's wrong so we can both fix it."

He looked at me in the eyes, and hesitantly said, "When you first moved here, I-I didn't know what to do."

"What do you mean?"

He looked away, "I didn't realize I was...gay, and I didn't want you to find out."

I looked at him surprised and I felt a slit blush cross my face, "Really?"

He looked at me kind of mad, "Yes really! I didn't know what to do either! I couldn't tell my friends, or they would've made fun of me!" He was quiet for a moment, but continued, "I thought if I picked on you, and hurt you, I would stop liking you and/or you would never find out that I did."

I stood there like an idiot. I didn't know what to say or do. He saw that too, so he was about to run again, but I acted too fast. I grabbed his arms pulled him closer, and without thinking, I kissed him. He kissed back almost automatically. Even though I kind of forced it, the kiss was gentle and sweet. When I pulled away, he tried to chase my lips, which made us both smile.

I've liked him from the day I met him. That's way I never told anyone I was being bullied. My family would've called the school and the school would punish him, but I didn't want him the hate me, so I never did.

I wrapped my hands around his neck and he put his hands on my waist.

"I really like you, Brock."

"I really like you too, Brian."